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® of 'I^OYiO 


By Barbara Yechton 


By Barbara Yechton. 


LITTLE SAINT HILARY and other stories. 
Illustrated by Minna Brown, - - 6o cents. 

A MATTER OF HONOR and other stories. Illus- 
trated by Harriet R. Richards, - 6o cents. 

TWO KNIGHTS -ERRANT and other stories. 
Illustrated by Harriet R. Richards, - 6o cents. 


*H:* The various stories in these volumes are also 
published separately in neat paper cover at ten cents 
each. 


THOMAS WHITTAKER, 

PUBLISHER, 

2 AND 3 BIBLE HOUSE, NEW YORK. 

L 





(A Matter of Honor.) 


A MATTER OF HONOR 

AND OTHER STORIES 


BY 




BARBARA YECHTON 

AUTHOR OF “Christine’s inspiration,” “little saint 
HILARY,” “ ‘gentle heart’ STORIES,” “INGLESIDe” v 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

HARRIET ROOSEVELT RICHARDS 


"No life can be pure in its purpose and strong in its strife, 
and all lives not be purer and stronger thereby." 


OF 


AUG 23 1894 








NEW-YORK 

THOMAS WHITTAKER 
2 & 3 BIBLE HOUSE 


Copyright, 1894, 

By Thomas Whittaker. 


Carton (pre66 

171-173 Macdougal Street, New York. 


AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 

TO 

MY LITTLE COUSIN 

SAMUEL MILBY HARRINGTON 

IN REMEMBRANCE OF PLEASANT HOURS SPENT 


ON BOARD THE “DELAWARE.” 



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S 







CONTENTS. 


/ \. A MATTER OF HONOR. 

/ 11.' GRANDMA’S NEW-YEAR PARTY. 
/ III. VERA. 

/ IV. “HONOR BEFORE HONORS.” 


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( 


A MATTER OF HONOR. 


Mamma says, to make my story clear, I had 
better begin at the very beginning. I’m afraid 
that will make it rather long, but I suppose I’d 
better do it. Well, the first thing was a great 
big letter that came addressed to '' Captain For- 
tescue ” — that’s my papa. It had a big red seal 
on the flap of the envelope, and I was pretty 
sure it was something particular, because I 
saw Washington ” postrnarked on it, and I’ve 
noticed that whenever papa is to go to any 
new place he gets a letter from there ; and sure 
enough when he came home from Philadelphia 
that afternoon and read his letter it was just as 
I thought, only it was a surprise, too. I don’t 
remember the name of the man who wrote it, 
or all that was in it, but one part was asking 


3 


A Matter of Honor. 

\ 

papa if he cbjild get ready to take command of 
the Delaware m ten days’ time. You may not 
know it (I didn’t j\ist at first), but the Delaware 
is one of the White Squadron ; and, papa says, 
one of the finest war-ships in the world. 

When papa finished reading his letter he 
waved it in the air. Hurrah!” he said, his 
eyes shining just as they do when he’s going to 
say something funny. “Go? I should think I 
would go ! I’m just longing to get my sea-legs 
on again.” But the pretty color in mamma’s 
face went away, and all she could say was : 
“ O Ted, what shall I do without you ? ” and 
there was a queer little catch in her voice that 
just made a big lump fly into my throat. 

Then papa began to laugh — I fancy he didn’t 
truly feel like laughing, but just did it to make 
us feel better. “ What a dismal face I ” he said, 
pretending to be very much surprised. “ Why, 
anybody’d think I was going away for three 
whole years, at least. Eighteen months will 
soon slip away — I’ll be home before you know 
it And then the honor of being chosen to 


f A Matter of Honor. 5 

command one of ‘ Uncle Sam’s ’ fine^^t new war- 
ships! You ought to feel proud, my dear, 
ril send you great budgets of letters from 
every port we touch at, and Phil (that’s me) 
shall take care of you while I am away. You 
know he’s a big fellow, now, mamma, nine — 
^ going on ten ’ (papa always makes fun of me 
because I say that, but it’s really true — just as 
soon as anybody has a birthday and it’s over 
he’s going on to the other birthday — see ?), and 
this will be a chance for him to show us what 
sort of stuff he’s made of. Come, cheer up, 
little wife. ‘ Taking the years together, my 
dear, there isn’t more rain than shine ’ — though 
you look as if you thought so just now.” Then, 
before anybody could say a word, he sat down 
and pulled mamma and me into his lap, and 
kissed and teased us, and rubbed his soft black 
beard all over our faces and in our necks until 
I fairly roared with laughter, and even mamma 
had to smile. 

Well, after that things just went in a whirl 
for a little time — there was so much happening 


6 A Matter of Honor. \ 

— visitors ^i^ming to tell papa how sorry they 
were that he vC’as going away — everybody loves 
my papa, and they’re proud of him, too, for 
he’s very brave, and he’s lived here all his life 
— when he’s been on shore, I mean; and 
grandpa lived here, too, all his life, and uncle 
Philip — the one I was named after — all his life. 
Mamma says I am like uncle Philip in some of 
my ways, but papa always raises his eyebrows 
’way up in the air when she says that. I’m 
afraid he doesn’t think I’m at all like uncle 
Phil, for he was very brave, and I’m not brave 
at all, though I try to be, and I’m going to try 
still harder. You see, there are so many things 
that make one nervous — that’s what aunt Amy 
says I am. I’m not fond of swinging or climb- 
ing — I get dizzy right away — nor of playing in 
a boat, or most of the things that boys like. I 
think: horses and dogs are lovely, but when the 
horses kick out their legs suddenly, or lift up 
their upper lip so that you see their big white 
teeth, and when dogs jump out on one and 
bark as if they were very angry and wanted to 


A Matter of Honor. 7 

tear one to pieces, then I just have to run away 
where they can’t reach me. And 1 just dread 
toy pistols and cannon. It does seem strange 
I should be like this when my papa’s not afraid 
of anything. I feel so ashamed sometimes, 
when I see how disappointed he is about me. 

Now Harry Osborne, that lives near us, is 
just the kind of boy I ought to be as papa’s 
son — he isn’t afraid of anything. I told papa 
that once — it was last Fourth of July night, 
when he wanted me to send off some fire- 
works. I enjoyed seeing them from the piazza 
where I was with mamma, but when papa called 
me down to touch off some immense fire-crack- 
ers I just couldn’t do it. I tried — nobody but 
mamma knows how hard I tried, but I couldfi't 
have held those things and had them go off in 
my hand with a bang, like the other boys did, 
and of course I had to tell papa that. Oh, 
how angry he was ! he sent me to bed. I felt 
awfully ashamed — not really so much because 
of the punishment, though I saw Harry and 
the other boys laughing, as because I knew 



8 ^ .X A Matter of Honor. 

papa was ^ dreadfully disappointed in me. 
You see, it wotddn’t matter so much if he had 
lots of other boys, but I’m his only child. 

I felt dreadfully, and I told him so when we 
talked it over together the next morning. It 
was then I said that Harry ought to have been 
his little boy instead of me. And what do you 
think he said? He just put his arms ’round 
me, and hugged me so tight my nose was all 
smashed up against his coat, and he said : ^'No, 
sir ! I prefer my own little son — even if he is 
a nervous little crank.” Didn’t I feel glad, 
though ! 

But, dear me, all this time I haven’t finished 
telling you about what happened after papa’s 
orders came from the Navy Department; but 
then, you see, I had to put this part in, too, so 
you’d understand the kind of boy I am. I 
never like to pretend — in real earnest, I mean 
— ’cause mamma says it isn’t honest, and be- 
sides, people might depend on one to do things 
that one really couldn’t do — see? Well, to go 
back, while papa was talking to all the people 


/ A Matter of Honor. g 

Uhat came to see him, and going up to Phila- 
delphia to attend to things there, mamma was 
getting his clothes ready, and fixing and mend- 
ing and packing — I think she just loves to do 
things for papa — and I was helping her. I ran 
in and out, and up and down stairs on errands 
for her. I like to help mamma; somehow, I 
can always do the things she asks me to. I 
guess that’s ’cause they’re easy; and though 
lots of people offered to help her, she just 
wanted me this time. You see, we understand 
each other. When I get nervous ” and can’t 
do brave things she says she knows just how 
I feel, and when — even while she was saying 
something quite funny — tears would run down 
her face and fall into the trunk she was pack- 
ing for papa, I just felt she’d rather I wouldn’t 
notice, so I’d look out of the window or pre- 
tend I was folding up something for her, so 
she needn’t speak of it. I don’t think that 
sort of pretending is wrong, do you? at least, 
it doesn’t seem so to me. I would do any- 
thing for mamma. Of course I think fathers 


lO A Matter of Honor. 

are splendid, and I know my brave, handsome) 
papa is more splendid than any other father in 
the whole world — I just love him dearly — but 
I do think mothers are so comforting. They 
know just what to say and do when a person is 
in trouble, or when their feelings get hurt. 

Well, at last everything was ready, and we 
started off for New York City. While we were 
there mamma and I went on board the Dela- 
ware every morning, and stayed all day, so as 
to be with papa as much as possible. 

I wish you could have seen the Delaware. 
I’m not very fond of being on a vessel, as I’ve 
told you, but she was certainly very interest- 
ing. She is a war- cruiser, you know, and as 
she belongs to the White Squadron she’s painted 
white; and her guns shine just like silver and 
gold, though they are really only brass and 
steel. In the mornings, the first thing papa 
had to put on his full-dress ” suit of clothes 
— it has gold lace on the trousers; and gold 
and red stripes, and a lovely gold eagle on the 
sleeves of the coat — and his sword which looks 


A Matter of Honor. 1 1 

like gold and clanks as he walks, and his cocked- 
hat with the feathers, and go to call on the ad- 
miral. I thought he looked splendid! and I 
know mamma thought so, too ; but he said it 
was “ a nuisance,” and that he preferred his 
fatigue ” suit. I looked for that word in the 
dictionary, and it means “ tired ” ; now, isn’t it 
queer to call a suit of clothes “ tired ” ? I must 
ask mamma about it some day. 

One of the sailors — his name was Jim — took 
me all over the Delaware. I went every- 
where — aft, where papa’s rooms were — first a 
queer-shaped room at the end of the vessel, 
with a locker (that’s a high seat like a bench, 
that has a cushion on it, but the top lifts up to 
put things in) that ran against what would be 
the wall if it were a house instead of a ship. 
And in here were two big cannon, right close 
to the port-holes, and there was a place near 
them, in the side of the ship, which could be 
opened to fire them through in case of a battle. 
Next to this was another room, where' we used 
to take dinner with papa. And beyond this 


12 A Matter of Honor. 

was his sleeping- room. His bed was fastened 
to the wall and had a railing round it, just like 
my old crib in the garret at home, and under- 
neath this bed were great big wide drawers, 
where mamma spread out all papa’s best clothes 
so they shouldn’t get messed. Then alongside 
of this was his office, where he and his secre- 
tary sat to write. 

All this was aft; then at the other end — Jim 
said it was ‘Hor’ard ” — was a high deck; you 
had to get up to it by dreadfully steep steps, 
and here were more cannon, big fellows, “ fif- 
teen-inchers,” Jim called them, that could throw 
a ball four miles. Jim seemed to think this was 
very wonderful. And up here was the ‘‘ fight- 
ing-tower,” a queer round place, where papa 
would go to peep out of the tiniest little crack 
if the Delaware should be in a fight — which 
I hope she won’t. Then downstairs — '' amid- 
ships ” — Jim told me all the names, so I could 
tell the boys when I got home — were lots of 
long shallow boxes hanging from the roof by 
chains, and in these the sailors slept. Oh ! 


A Matter of Honor. 


n 


there were lots and lots of sailors, and they 
were so polite to papa, they put their hands 
to their caps whenever he spoke to them, and 
sometimes even when he passed. I even went 
in the kitchen, and Jim introduced me to the 
cook and the steward, who were both Chinese. 

Oh ! and there were a cat and a goat on 
board. The cat was very nice and friendly, 
but the goat had quite long horns, and he did 
not look at all pleasant. When the orderly 
pulled him over by the horns for me to pat, he 
just put his little front hoofs together and stiff- 
ened his legs and looked so cross as he slid 
along that I said, as quickly aS I could : ''Please 
don’t make him come, orderly; I really don’t 
want to pat him.” The orderly says the sail- 
ors are very fond of this goat ; they call it their 
mascot, and like to think that it brings them 
good luck. 

Of course the time just flew, until the very 
last day came. That last evening papa said : 
“Come up on the poop deck, Phil; mother is 
going to write a note, and I want to have a little 


14 


A Matter of Honor. 


talk with you.” So up we went. The poop 
deck was right over papa’s rooms, and up there 
was a long brass cannon that Jim called ‘'the 
baby,” and other big steel guns. These were all 
covered up now, for the night, and a sailor was 
“ on watch,” walking up and down all the time. 

Papa and I walked up and down, too, for a 
while. He was smoking, and he held one of 
my hands real tight, but he didn’t begin to 
speak right away. Indeed, I began to think 
he had forgotten, and that mamma would be 
all through her letter and be waiting for us. I 
had counted the steps we took before we turned 
each way, and watched the red and blue and 
white electric lights on the New York side lots 
of times before he said anything. Then when 
we were farthest away from the watch he said, 
suddenly : “ Why, son, why don’t you say some- 
thing? We haven’t much more time to talk 
together in.” And, before I could answer, he 
sat down on a seat, a sort of box — perhaps it 
was another locker — that was near the sky- 
light, and began to talk. 


A Matter of Honor. 15 

It was the most serious talk we have ever 
had; papa didn’t make a single joke or tease 
one bit, he just spoke to me as if I were a 
grown-up man, like he would to uncle Corbin ; 
and though I don’t think many big people know 
it, little boys just love to be talked to that way 
— at least, little boys like me. He told me that 
he left mamma in my charge, that I was to re- 
member she was not strong, and to take great 
care of her; and always to think of her before 
myself. And that I must try to be brave, so 
that if any danger came to her I could defend 
her. He spoke very seriously about this. A 
horrid old lump came in my throat, and I was 
so afraid the tears would come, too — papa does 
hate to see a boy cry — that I kept swallowing 
and swallowing all the time. He said that if 
I did not overcome this foolish nervousness I 
would get to be a regular coward by and by, 
and no one would be able to depend on me or 
respect me at all. “ Now, Phil,” he said, at 
the last, I want you to make this a matter of 
honor between us. I want you to promise me 


1 6 A Matter of Honor. ^ 

that while I am gone you’ll try every day to 
overcome some one of those foolish nervous 
fears that you have — it may be dread of the 
dark, or of strange noises, or of thunder-storms, 
or of animals — -or anything else that frightens 
you — you know your weak points as well as I 
do. Will you promise?” 

I didn’t answer right away — I couldn’t. You 
.see, I knew if I promised I’d just have to keep 
my word, and I knew, too, better than papa 
did, how awfnlly hard that would be. I had 
almost made up my mind to tell papa that 
I really couldn’t promise, when he said, very 
suddenly, and in oh ! snch a voice : '' I cannot 
endure that my only child should grow up a 
coward! I can’t tell you how it grieves me! 
Philip, dear little son, won’t you make me this 
promise before I go away? ” 

There was something in papa’s voice that 
just made my heart swell right up as if it 
would almost burst; I didn’t seem to be afraid 
of a single thing. I really think I could have 
touched off every cannon on that deck if he 


A Matter of Honof. 


t7 

had asked me then. “ Papa,” I said out loud 
—I am afraid the watch must have heard me 
— “ I do promise. I will try every single day.” 
Then papa said, Honor bright?” and I said. 

Honor bright,” and we shook hands — that’s 
a way papa and I have when we make a bar- 
gain with each other. And then he kissed me 
two or three times, and we went downstairs to 
mamma. 

The next morning the Delaware steamed 
away from New York, and after that mamma 
and I went home. 

Of course, after my talk with papa I had to 
try every day to keep my promise, and it was 
really very hard sometimes. There were so 
many things that I didn’t like — that I was 
nervous about, you know, that, though mamma 
said she did think I was improving, I used to 
get very discouraged, until she and I had a 
little talk about it. It was at bedtime ; I had 
just said my verse : For we have not a High 
Priest which cannot be touched with the feeling 
of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted 


i8 


A Matter of Hotter. 


like as we are, yet without sin.” Mamma al- 
ways explains my verses to me, and she said 
she thought this one was to remind us that we 
could always tell every single thing that troubled 
us to Jesus; because He had been a real man 
once, living right on earth, and though He had 
never done anything wrong Himself, still He 
had had lots of trials and temptations, same as 
we have, so He would always understand just 
how hard it was for us to be good, and would 
help us to do what was right every time. Then 
mamma said : " Why don’t you ask Him to help 
you to be brave, Phil ? I’m sure He will. You 
know He was once a little boy, and He’ll un- 
derstand just how you feel.” 

I was surprised for a minute! You see I’d 
never thought about Him that way. “ Why, 
mamma,” I said, quickly, do you s’pose He 
was ever afraid of things like I am ? I always 
thought He was very brave.” 

So He was, dear,” mamma answered, “ the 
bravest man the world has ever known ; but all 
the same He will understand, better than any 


A Matter of Honor. 


19 


one else could, just how nervous you get 
when you have to do certain things ; and 
if you remember to ask Him to help you 
every day, I am sure He will. He may not 
take away your timidity, but He will give you 
courage to do the hard things in spite of it; 
and to my mind, son, that is a very noble sort 
of bravery.” 

I thought it all over after mamma had gone 
downstairs again, and I just made up my mind 
I’d do as she said before I went to sleep that 
night. I would rather not tell you what I said 
— you know there are some things one doesn’t 
like to speak of — and anyway, mamma says it’s 
the heart that God notices, more than the words, 
so it won’t matter if I don’t tell you just the 
words I used. Sure enough, after that things 
did go better, and mamma and I felt so glad 
about it, for we both noticed that whenever I 
wasn’t afraid or nervous one time I seemed to 
be braver the next time. Mamma sa5^s it was 
a preparation for what was coming — but there, 
I mustn’t tell you too soon. 


50 


A Matter of Honof. 


Well, one afternoon some weeks after papa 
went away — I don’t remember how many, but 
it seemed a long while — uncle Corbin came to 
see mamma ; they had a long talk together, and 
after he had gone mamma told me we were 
going to England! You can imagine how sur- 
prised I was. She said we were to visit cousin 
Richard Fortescue and remain at his home ufitil 
papa’s ship came to England, then we were to 
come home with him in the Delaware! He 
had special permission to bring us back with 
him. Of course then things went in another 
whirl, and really, almost before we knew it the 
trunks were packed, the house was all closed 
up, and we were on board the steamer on our 
way to Liverpool. 

Fm sorry I can’t tell you about the steamer 
and our voyage over, but it would take too 
long; and besides, there really isn’t much to 
tell, ’cause both mamma and I were sick ’most 
all the way — at least, I was first, and mamma 
stayed with me ; then, when I got better she 
got worse, and I stayed with her. Cousin 


A Matter of Honor. 5 1 

Richard came to Liverpool to meet us — he 
is a great big man with red cheeks, and such 
a big loud voice way down in his throat — and 
he took us to Coombe Abbey, where he and 
cousin Letty and the children live. 

I just wish you could see Coombe Abbey — 
I’m sure you’d think ’twas lovely. The house 
is gray, and has ivy growing ’way up over the 
bedroom windows, and there’s a tall tower 
at one end, where you can get a splendid 
view for miles ’round. Then there’s a great 
wide stone piazza — only here they call it a 
terrace ” — with very wide steps up to it ; and 
here, walking up and down all the time, are 
two peacocks — like those you see in Central 
Park — with the most beautiful tails you could 
imagine. They screech dreadfully sometimes 
— I didn’t quite like them at first, though now 
I’m not a bit afraid. Then in the grounds 
there’s a sun-dial — an old stone all covered 
with moss, and the people that lived here long 
ago used to tell the time by the shadows it 
made as the sun fell on it. There’s a lake, too. 


22 


A Matter of Honor. 


in the grounds, where we go to fish, and a tiny 
bridge over a little stream, and an arbor, and 
funny shaped beds full of lovely flowers, and 
lots of trees. 

Mamma says it’s beautiful, and she and I 
love to sit and walk there ; but the boys, Dick 
and Cyril, like the part better that’s back of the 
house, where the dogs and horses are. You 
see they both ride splendidly, and they’re just 
crazy to grow up and go fox-hunting. I guess 
they thought ’twas queer I didn’t want to ride 
all their horses and play with all their dogs; 
and though I did get on Dick’s horse, “ Rajah,” 
every day, and ride up and down the avenue, 
’cause mamma said papa’d want me to, I didn’t 
really care for it; and I’m pretty sure they 
knew it, though I wish they didn’t — you see it 
wasn’t very pleasant to have them look at each 
other and laugh when Rajah wouldn’t turn 
’round — though I stuck to it till he did — and 
to hear Dick tell Cyril that I was “ the oddest 
little duffer ” he’d ever met. I’m not sure what 


A Matter of Honor. 


23 


“ duffer ” means, but I don’t believe it’s any- 
thing very nice. 

Anyway, I do think English people use such 
funny words. Cousin Richard and the boys 
laugh at me because I say I guess,” and talk 
about '' having a real good time ” ; but I don’t 
think those expressions sound half as queer as 
some of the things they say — like ” he took a 
header,” or “ he got a cropper,” when a per- 
son gets a fall ; and only the other morning 
cousin Richard called dear little Dusgate — who 
is only three years old and the sweetest little 
creature — a droll little beggar ” ! I wouldn’t 
want my papa to call me that. Of course, I 
don’t tell them about these things, because 
we’re visiting them, you know, and mamma 
says it wouldn’t be polite ; and anyway, things 
are different now — I mean the boys act differ- 
ent to me now on account of something that 
happened. To explain this I must tell you 
about the house. 

It’s the queerest house you ever were in. 


24 


A Matter of Honor. 


You come on little flights of steps just where 
you don’t expect them, leading up or down to 
the funniest shaped rooms, and there’s a great 
long gallery that has pictures on the walls and 
suits of armor hanging up and standing about 
here and there. This hall gets dark very early 
in the afternoons, so I like best to play at the 
end where sir Alan’s (cousin Dick’s very old- 
est relation) picture hangs; his armor is there 
also, and there’s a window, too, a tall window 
with lots of little round panes of glass in it. 
This window is open most times, and then the 
ivy and a lovely climbing red rose just poke 
their heads in, and it’s real pretty. We all 
play here in the afternoons, ’cept when Dick 
and Cyril go to the stables, and then Evelyn 
and I have our games alone. I love Evelyn, 
she’s such a nice, pretty little girl ; she never 
makes fun of anything I do, and I don’t mind, 
as the others do, if she does bring her doll. 
Sweet Lavender, with her — you see, she’s the 
only girl, and I’m sure she must get tired some- 
times of having just boys to play with. Well, 


A Matter of Honor. 


25 


we were playing here one afternoon — just Eve- 
lyn and I — at our favorite end of the hall, when 
the something I spoke of just now happened. 

It had been quite an exciting day, ’cause 
there was to be a big dinner-party that even- 
ing, and things had been preparing since the 
day before. We children were not to come to 
the grand dinner — even Dick would be in bed 
by the time it began — but we had seen lots of 
the silver and fine things that were to be on 
the table, and cousin Letty had let us be in 
the room when she took her diamonds that she 
was going to wear out of the safe. She took 
out lots of boxes, one after the other, and 
showed us the beautiful jewels in them. How 
they did flash and sparkle! Just as she was 
doing it Dick came running in and told her 
that cousin Richard wanted her and mamma in 
the drawing-room for a few minutes right away. 

Now when cousin Richard says right away ” 
he means at that very minute — everybody knows 
that;, so, though cousin Letty said, ‘'Oh dear, 
how inconvenient! ” she began to put the boxes 


26 


A Matter of Honor. 


away quickly ; but there were a good many, 
and before she could get them all into the 
safe Dick came with another message for her. 
“ Well, ril have to finish putting them away 
when I come back,” cousin Letty said, piling the 
rest of the cases on the table. ” Phil, you keep 
an eye on them for me in the meanwhile, and 
don’t you let anybody run off with my jewels.” 
You see, she said that to me ’cause she knew 
Dick and Cyril would be off to the stables ju.st 
as soon as her back was turned. We all laughed, 
and I said I would take care of them, so I left 
the door of the safe-room wide open so I could 
see the table, and when she and mamma had 
gone Evelyn and I went on playing. 

Cousin Letty and mamma stayed away a 
long time — we had played ever so many games 
of hide-and-seek, and the hall was getting quite 
dark, when all at once I heard Evelyn call out : 
“ Phil, come here, I want to show you some- 
thing.” 

I was just going to hide, but I ran over to 
where she stood. She was holding Sweet 


A Matter of Honor. 


27 


Lavender tight in her arms, and looking at sir 
Alan’s armor with such a queer expression on 
her dear little face. “ Phil,” she whispered, 
when I got up to her, “ I didn’t know before 
that sir Alan had eyes in his head.' Did you? 
Look!” 

“What, this sir Alan?” I asked, pointing 
to the figure. “ Why, Evvie, what nonsense 
you are talking! He looks just as he always 
does,” and I laughed. Then I looked again, 
and what do you think! Sure enough, there 
were two big, dreadful eyes looking right down 
at me from under sir Alan’s helmet! 

In a minute, before I even knew I was go- 
ing to do it, I just flew to the other side of the 
hall; I was so frightened that I felt as if I 
mnst get out of that place without stopping for 
anybody. But Evelyn didn’t know I was run- 
ning away, she thought I was playing, and she 
laughed out loud — you see, she had forgotten 
her fright already. 

But I didn’t feel like laughing, I can tell you, 
and it was just as much as I could do to make 


28 A Matter of Honor. 

myself stand still for a few minutes and think. 
My head was all in a whirl at first — all I seemed 
to want to do was to get to the end of the long 
hall, behind the heavy baize door — down there 
I would be safe, for the dining-room was 
there, and some of the servants would surely 
be about. Yes, I would be safe, but what 
would become of Evelyn? The horrible crea- 
ture in the armor might eat her up or carry her 
off — and yet if I stayed he might do something 
dreadful to me, too. 

I shook all over with fright, and felt as if I 
couldn't go back for Evvie or anybody else. 
Then suddenly I remembered the open safe- 
room door, and cousin Letty’s diamonds on 
the table, and it came to me like a flash that 
whoever it was that was in sir Alan’s armor 
he was going to steal those jewels if I let him! 
I can’t tell you why I thought so, I just know 
it came to me and I was sure of it. 

Oh, how horribly I felt! I got cold inside 
so that my teeth began to knock together and 
gooseflesh came out all over me, but I didn’t 


A Matter of Honor. 


29 


run away any farther. I remembered cousin 
Letty’s words : “ Don’t you let anybody run off 
with my jewels, Phil.” And that I had prom- 
ised. Then I thought of what papa had said : 
‘‘ I cannot endure that my only child should 
grow up a coward,” and then I began to walk 
toward Evelyn, though my feet almost stuck 
to the floor — for I just knew then that I had 
to stay in that gallery and take care of her and 
keep that man from stealing cousin Letty’s 
diamonds. 

I didn’t see how I was to do it. I glanced 
up at the window as I passed — how I would 
have liked to climb out of it and get away! — 
and as I looked, what should pop right out 
into the daylight sky but a dear little star. It 
twinkled at me in such a friendly way, and it 
seemed to me it said, just as plain as if it had a 
voice: ‘'I’m here — don’t be afraid, Phil ; don’t 
be afraid.” Of course it didn’t really say so, 
for stars don’t talk; but it helped me just as 
much as if it had, for seeing it up there in 
the heavens I thought of that verse about our 


30 


A Matter of Honor. 


“ High Priest” that mamma and I talked over 
that night at home, and as I walked over to 
where the suit of armor was, I began to say to 
myself — inside like, you know : “Please, dear 
Jesus, help me to be brave ! Please, dear Jesus, 
don’t let him steal cousin Letty’s diamonds ! ” 
And do you know — He did help me. 

All this takes a long time to tell, but it 
didn’t take very long to do, and Evelyn didn’t 
suspect a thing, “ It’s getting ’most too dark 
to play,” she said, when I got up to her. “ I 
wish Dennis would come with the lights.” 
Then something — mamma said ’twas in answer 
to my prayer — told me just what to do. If I 
could only not let the thief that was in the 
armor see I knew he was there, and Evelyn 
and I could stay right close to him as if we 
were playing, so he couldn’t get out and slip 
into the safe-room, Dennis would soon be along 
with the lights and would help us, for he is very 
big and very brave ; he was a soldier once, in 
cousin Richard’s regiment. 

I was so afraid Evvie would guess and get 


A Matter of Honor. 


3 


frightened and cry, and so spoil the whole 
thing, that I had to play with her — at least, I 
made believe play, but I was really shaking 
^all over, and when she accidentally struck sir 
Alan’s spear I almost screamed out loud. 

I suppose it wasn’t really very long before 
Dennis came — he’s always very particular about 
the time — but it seemed like hours and hours 
to me. I felt like rushing over and hugging 
his legs, I was so glad to see him, but then I 
thought I’d better not, for he was still a good 
way off, and that would leave Evelyn alone; 
besides, I wasn’t sure I could run, I was trem- 
bling so. So I waited till he was rather near, 
and had all the candles lighted, then I walked 
up to him and whispered — at least I meant to 
whisper, but instead of that he says I fairly 
screamed, so that cousin Richard heard me 
in the drawing-room and came rushing in : 
“ There’s — a — man — in — si r — Alan’s — armor 
— he’s — a — thief — after — cousin — Letty’s — 
diamonds!” Then all at once a horrid rushing 
noise came in my ears, everything got black, 


32 


A Matter of Honor. 


and I don’t remember anything more for a while, 
for I fainted dead ” away — so Dennis says. 

Well, when I opened my eyes again I was in 
mamma’s lap up in our room ; and the next day 
she told me that cousin Richard and Dennis 
had easily caught the thief, who confessed that 
he had been hanging^ around all day to try to 
get something, and in the confusion of getting 
ready for the dinner-party he had slipped into 
the gallery without being seen, and got into 
the armor to hide. He had seen cousin Letty 
showing the jewelry, and he intended to creep 
into the safe- room as soon as we went away 
from that end of the hall, and carry off all he 
could put his hands on. He told them he 
didn’t dream that I knew he was there, so they 
caught him easily and took him away. 

Cousin Richard made me tell him the whole 
story. I was ashamed to have to tell how 
dreadfully frightened I was; but what do you 
think? When I finished he patted my head, 
and said, so very gently I hardly knew his big 
voice : Why, Phil, my boy, you’re a hero — 


A Matter of Honor. 


33 


the real true genuine article! and I’m proud of 
you 1” And mamma just held me tight to her 
and kissed me, and said over and over : “ My 
brave son! my dear little boy! O Phil, how 
proud and glad papa will be.” 

Then in came Dick and Cyril, and you can’t 
think how differently they treated me to what 
they used to. Dick offered me his new knife 
right away as a present, and said he just wished 
he had been there to show what he could do. 
And Cyril asked cousin Richard if he didn’t 
think he ought to let the Queen know, so she 
could give me a Victoria Cross. At first I 
thought he was making fun of me — ’cause he 
and Dick just think that V. C. the greatest 
honor in the world — but they said they were 
in earnest. But the best of all was a dear let- 
ter from papa, written all to myself. He says 
in it that I have kept my promise like a man, 
and that instead of being the coward he was 
afraid I might be I am his “ honor-bright hero- 
son.” I love that letter — I’ve read it so often 
it’s getting all worn out. 


34 


A Matter of Honor. 


I’m very, VERY glad papa thinks what I did 
was brave ; but of course I know I’m not really 
brave all through and through yet, and so 
mamma says I’ll have to try just the same 
every day or I might go back — ’cause I’m still 
nervous sometimes. But it’s not anything at 
all like what it was, and that’s the reason 
mamma said I ought to tell you this story. 
She says she’s sure there are other boys in 
the world as nervous as I used to be, and she 
thinks it might do them good to know how I 
was helped. 


GRANDMA^S NEW-YEAR PARTY. 


The children had had such a good, time 
during the last two weeks. They said they 
had never enjoyed themselves so much at any 
Christmas season, and declared that of all places 
in the world for a holiday, grandma’s house was 
the jolliest. In the first place it was very large, 
and full of unexpected staircases and landings 
and halls, leading to quaint-shaped rooms of all 
sizes, where grandpa and grandma’s children 
and grandchildren and friends were welcome to 
make as much fun and noise as they pleased, 
and to enjoy themselves in their own fashion. 
There were a piano, a violin, and a banjo for 
those who could play on them, garner of all 
sorts, and books without number, fairy tales. 


3 


4 Grandma' s New - Year Party. 

travels, histories, and stories of other boys and 
girls, interesting enough to please anybody; 
best of all, however, was the garret, a large 
open space, lighted by some funny-looking 
round little windows which the boys called 
“ port-holes.” 

Here, at the top of the house, the children 
had good times indeed ; here they played 
“Indians,” “Desert Island,” “Tug of War,” 
and gymnasium, held receptions, made stump 
speeches, fired off guns loaded with caps, and 
shot arrows out of the “port-holes” at im- 
aginary foes in the orchard ; the only trouble 
about this last game being that when the stock 
of ammunition was exhausted hostilities had to 
be suspended until one of the company went 
down on the battle-field and gathered up the 
scattered weapons of war. 

There was apt to be a difference of opinion 
on the subject of who should go on this errand, 
but excepting that, it was a favorite game with 
the boys, while the girls played visiting, or gave 
dolls’ parties, or skipped the rope. 


Grmidma s New -Year Party. 5 

There were ten children, including tall Mur- 
ray, fresh from his military school, and baby 
Karl, who was just eleven months old; so, as 
uncle Rollie said, it was a fortunate thing that 
they had the garret and the yard in which to 
work off some of their exuberant spirits, or 
there would have been no living in the house 
with them. 

Oh ! I must tell you about the yard. It 
was sixty feet deep at the back of the 
house, while the part which ran along the side 
of the bustling street was over one hundred 
feet in depth. The tiny orchard and vegetable 
garden lay at the back of the house, and the 
carriage-house, barn, and chicken-house faced 
the street. Here were kept horses and cows, 
chickens and turkeys, much to the surprise and 
interest of the passers-by. It was a miniature 
farm right in the heart of the city, on a street 
entirely given up to business purposes, and 
more than one real-estate agent had suggested 
grandpa’s selling the old place, or building 
stores on it, and moving up-town to a more 


6 Grandmas New -Year Party. 

fashionable street ; but the old gentleman al- 
ways shook his head. “No,” he would say, in 
his slow, mild way, “ I bought this place with 
my first savings, years and years ago, when this 
part of New York City was all country. The 
children have all been born, and some have 
died, in that old house, and mother and I are 
content to end our days in it.” 

But grandma went further than that, and de- 
clared she preferred the old farm to the most 
fashionable part of the city. “ I like to be near 
the stores,” said she, “ and make acquaintances 
among the workers in the busy hives. I have 
a large circle of friends among the little cash- 
girls and cash-boys in the stores near by, which 
I would not be willing to give up, and I think 
they all have a kindly liking for the farm.” 
Well they might, for after her own quantity of 
milk was taken out, the dear old lady sent the 
balance regularly to these poor “ neighbors,” 
free of charge, an extra allowance being left at 
the houses where there were little children or 
sick people ; turkeys and chickens, too, and vege- 


Grandma New -Year Party. 7 

tables and fruit in their season, found their way 
to the same places, and many and sincere were 
the thanks given in return for these kindnesses. 

The first installment of grown people and 
children arrived early on Christmas Eve, and 
they had scarcely had time to be kissed all 
around and to take off their things before Mar- 
tha, grandma’s maid, who had been nurse to a 
number of the aunts and uncles in days gone 
by, appeared to announce that some more of 
the fam’ly was cornin’ up the steps.” A rush 
was made for the parlor window nearest the 
stoop, Russell, Hope, and Nannie squeezing into 
one corner of the old-fashioned three-paned 
window, while aunt Nora held Karl up above 
their heads, so that his pretty blue eyes could 
see the new-comers. 

There they came, along the railing and up 
the snowy stoop — Douglas ahead, his tam-o’- 
shanter almost on the back of his neck, intent 
on being the first to enter; next sweet-faced 
Elsie, rather sober under the responsibility of 
looking after so many httle ones; close to her 


8 Grandma! s New - Year Party. 

came Donald, smiling and waving his hat to the 
group at the window ; then chubby, bright-eyed 
Helen, Joyce stopping at the railing to kiss her 
hand to the baby. 

Such a kissing and hugging and laughing 
and talking as ensued when they got in ! And 
in the excess of his joy Douglas squeezed the 
baby so tight that the little fellow cried out, 
which brought grandma and all the aunties to 
the rescue. I didn’t mean to hurt the dear 
little teeny-weeny thing,” protested the of- 
fender, half contrite, half provoked. “ Babies 
cry if you look at them,” which was a libel on 
good-natured Karl. 

Such mysteries as went on that day and 
evening! You could scarcely enter a room, 
or even turn around, but somebody cried out 
hurriedly, “Oh! do stay out a few minutes 
longer; ” or, “ I wish you’d shut your eyes till 
I get by; ” or, “ Please don’t anybody go into 
such and such a room.” The bell kept ringing 
and package after package kept coming, of all 
sizes and shapes, packages which Martha and 


Grandmas New -Year Party. ^ 

old John the butler smuggled off into grand- 
ma’s room as quickly as possible. 

By bed-time the children were in such a state 
of excitement that Donald and Douglas, as well 
as Hope and Joyce, declared they were sure 
they would not be able “ to sleep a wink ” ; but 
they did, soundly, too, until Christmas morning. 

It would be useless to attempt to tell you 
about all the wonderful presents that were 
given and received in the big back parlor where 
the stockings had been hung; or of how many 
times everybody kissed and thanked everybody 
else; or of the lovely Christmas service in the 
church near by, where grandpa and his big fam- 
ily filled four pews ; or of the Christmas dinner ; 
or of the evening, when everybody danced, 
even grandpa and grandma being drawn into 
the Virginia reel, which had to be formed in 
two sets, because there were so many people to 
join in it! It was all too nice and jolly and 
“ Christmasy,” as Helen called it, to be de- 
scribed. 

The days between Christmas and New- Year 


10 Grandmas New -Year Party. 

passed very swiftly and pleasantly to the young 
people; picture-galleries, public buildings, and 
museums came in for a share of their attention, 
and the days and evenings passed by on golden 
wings, until New- Year Eve (or, as grandma and 
grandpa called it. Old- Year Night) came around. 
A whisper had gone abroad, how started no 
one could tell, that grandma intended giving a 
New- Year party, though the children had heard 
of no invitations being issued; and when on 
Wednesday morning at breakfast the old lady 
said, “ Children, I should like to see you all in 
my room in half an hour; I want to tell you of 
something which I have planned for to-morrow 
evening,” a delighted smile flashed around the 
tableful of children. Each one looked at the 
other and nodded, as much as to say, “ Didn’t 
I tell you so!” while Donald waved his napkin 
over his head with “Hurrah for grandma!” a 
cry which the children, the uncles, aunties, and 
grandpa himself joined in, until the room fairly 
rang. 

“ Oh, hush, you foolish people!” cried grand- 


Grandma^ s JVezv- Year Party. 1 1 

ma, smiling and blushing all over her still pretty 
face, “ or you’ll bring a mob about the house.” 

Before the half-hour was up, the children 
were all in grandma’s room. Uncle Rollie was 
there, too; he was the youngest of the uncles, 
hardly more than an overgrown boy, and a 
great favorite with every one. The children 
grouped themselves about the old lady with an 
air of expectancy. 

“ Children,” began grandma, I intend giv- 
ing a New -Year party.” 

“ A-a-h!” breathed her delighted audience. 

“The guests will be strangers to you all,” 
continued the old lady, “ and I must ask your 
kindly help and courtesy in entertaining them; 
They are little cash-girls and cash-boys, who 
are employed in stores on this street and on 
the avenue near by. They are honest, hard- 
working children who seldom have a holiday, 
and never such good times as you have had 
the past week. God has been very good to us 
all, and while the joyfulness of the Christ Child’s 
birthday is still with us, I thought we would 


12 Grandma's New -Year Party. 

pass along to these brave little workers some 
of the ‘jolly times’ as well. as the ‘good will,’ 
of which we may have more than our share. 
Will you help my New- Year party to go off 
well, girls and boys?” 

There was a moment of surprised silence ; 
this was not what they had expected; then, 
before anybody could speak, uncle Rollie left 
his chair by the window, and going swiftly to 
grandma’s side took her hand, and kissed it. 
“ I’ll be glad to help you, mother,” he said, and 
Hope told Nannie afterward that she knew 
there were tears in his eyes. 

“ I’ll help you, too, grandma,” cried Murray, 
standing very straight and tall before the old 
lady. 

“ And I,” cried Elsie. 

“ An’ I too, gramma,” put in Russell. 

“And I! and I! and I!” cried a chorus of 
voices, and as grandma unfolded her plan their 
interest grew as deep as even she could have 
desired. 

At four o’clock on New-Year afternoon the 


Grandmas Nezv-Year Party. 13 

little guests began to arrive at the big house, 
in twos and threes, painfully shy at first; but 
uncle Rollie and Elsie answered the bell them- 
selves, greeting the little people with kindly 
speeches, while aunt Nora, Helen, and Donald 
had such pleasant, funny things to say while 
hats and hoods and caps were being taken off, 
that it only needed grandma’s bright smile of 
welcome to set the new-comers quite at their 
ease. 

Grandma’s children and grandchildren were 
always very much in earnest over whatever 
they undertook to do, and none the less so on 
this occasion ; so the big parlors soon echoed 
and reechoed with shouts of merriment and 
laughter. They danced — those that could ; 
they played all sorts of games, even “ Oats, 
Peas, Beans,” which grandpa started as “ the 
farmer,” taking in grandma as “ the farmer’s 
wife,” and they clapped their hands and 
stamped their feet ” after the most approved 
fashion, amid peals of laughter from every- 
body. 


14 Grandma's New -Year Party. 

About half-past six o’clock aunt Kate played 
the “ Wedding March,” and grandpa led off the 
procession with a small, bright-eyed little cash- 
girl of twelve years, grandma followed on the 
arm of a delicate boy of about the same age, 
the children of the house each offering an arm 
to a boy or girl visitor until all were in line, 
Murray and uncle Rollie being last with the 
smallest partners they could find, which in- 
creased the fun and laughter. Round and 
round they went, keeping time with the music, 
then through the hall to the dining-room at 
the back of the house. 

I wish you could have seen the tableful of 
good things which grandma had provided for 
her little children of the poor.” Such roast 
beef and lamb! such richly browned turkeys 
and chickens! such rosy ham! such celery and 
cranberry sauce ! such delicious home-made 
bread ! The children ate as if they thoroughly 
enjoyed every mouthful — as very likely they 
did — and grandma whispered to grandpa, “ It 
is really beautiful to see the way those grand- 



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“ On a raised platform at the end of the back parlor stood a fat, rosy 


^anta Claus.” 


(Grandma’s New Year Party.) 



Grandma's New -Year Party, 15 

children of ours are waiting upon their little 
guests; I feel proud of them.” 

After the solids came oranges, jellies, whole- 
some cake, apples, nuts, raisins, and favors, 
which last created much fun among the chil- 
dren. Another procession was formed, and all 
marched back to the parlors, where a surprise 
awaited them. On a raised platform at the end 
of the back parlor stood a fat, rosy Santa Claus, 
whose eyes twinkled, and whose generous- 
sized mouth laughed over his long snowy beard 
in a fashion that was infectious. Santa Claus 
carried an immense pack on his back, which 
appeared to be well stuffed. A table back of 
him was also piled up with things, which were 
half concealed under a cover. Near Santa 
stood a youth about fifteen, whose erect bear- 
ing reminded one of Murray. He was envel- 
oped in a loose white robe, gracefully drawn up 
on one shoulder; he wore a little white mask, 
and on his head was a low crown, on the front 
of which were the words “ New- Year.” 

As soon as the children were in order, Santa 


1 6 Grandma's New - Year Party. 

Claus made a speech ; he said he was sorry to 
have come after Christmas, which was his spe- 
cial season, but he hoped that the young people 
were glad to see him, nevertheless. He had 
traveled some distance since morning, and at 
his time of life a journey was a journey, even 
with fast reindeer and a comfortable sleigh, so 
on that account, as well as out of compliment 
to the New- Year, on whose time he had en- 
croached, he would ask that young gentleman 
to hand out a few parcels which might be of 
interest to some of the young people present. 
Then he untied his pack, and you never saw 
such a lot of packages and queer-shaped bundles 
as it contained! Santa gave the packages to 
the graceful New- Year, who read off the names 

I 

written on them, and then handed them to the 
little boy and girl visitors as they approached. 

One could scarcely hear for the babel of eager 
voices which filled the rooms. For once the 
small business men and women had forgotten 
the stern realities of life, which had crushed so 
much of the buoyancy of childhood out of them. 


7 


Grandma's New -Year Party. 

and were as happy as children could be over 
the toys, games, books, and candy, to say noth- 
ing of the innumerable useful presents which 
Santa Claus had so freely bestowed by the 
hands of young New- Year. Overcoats, warm 
flannels, dresses, capes, hats, caps, shoes — it 
would be impossible to tell you of all, but I 
know this, Santa Claus was so tired by the time 
the presents were all distributed, that after sing- 
ing a funny little good-night verse he was glad 
to accept New-Year’s arm, limping off the 
stage with an exaggeration of lameness that 
vastly amused his audience. 

While the little folks were getting cooled off, 
grandpa told them a story about New York 
City as it was in his young days. By the time 
the story was ended the new possessions which 
Santa Claus had brought had been made up into 
bundles and packages by the older folks, then 
hats and cloaks were donned, and after thank- 
ing their kind entertainers for the good time ” 
they had had, the little cash-girls and cash-boys 
went home to relate the wonderful events of 


1 8 Grandma's New -Year Party. 

the evening, and to cheer the hearts of tired, 
dispirited mothers and fathers with the sight of 
the warm, comfortable clothing which had been 
given them, lifting a weight of care and anxiety 
off more than one overburdened heart 

So grandma’s party accomplished two ends : 
it gave these poor children a bright spot in their 
lives to look back on, and it touched the hearts 
of the parents as well. As to the grandchildren 
— Donald voiced the sentiments of all when he 
declared: “Well! I enjoyed Christmas Day 
’mensely, but I do think grandma’s New- Year 
party went ahead of anything we’ve had before, 
and I hope she’ll have another one next year.” 


VERA. 


The children were all at grandma’s for the 
holidays. They always enjoyed visiting her, 
she was so altogether jolly,” as Donald ex- 
pressed it. Grandpa was very quiet, but so 
indulgent in the way of tips and treats that 
he was also very popular with the young folks. 
The roomy old house was another attraction — 
such a splendid garret as it possessed, in which 
grandpa had had a new finely equipped gym- 
nasium put up for the boys, and grandma a 
well-furnished dolls’-house for the girls. 

Some of my boy and girl readers have heard 
of this old house before, and may remember 
that, though it was situated in a street that 
was fast being given up to business purposes, 
and where every foot of ground was "worth a 


3 


4 


Vera. 


fabulous price, neither grandpa nor grandma 
would hear of selling it and moving into more 
fashionable quarters. The grounds which were 
attached to the house were large enough to 
contain an orchard and vegetable garden and 
carriage-house, stable, chicken-house, and barn, 
and on this miniature farm in the heart of the 
city grandpa and grandma kept their horses, 
cows, chickens, and turkeys, using their good 
things freely and wisely, for the benefit of their 
poorer neighbors as well as their own comfort. 
Some of you may remember that a New- Year 
party was given in this old house a year or two 
ago, where the guests were the poor little cash- 
boys and cash- girls that work in the crowded 
stores on the business avenue and streets near 
by, and the entertainers grandpa and grandma 
and their grandchildren. 

There were twelve grandchildren now instead 
of ten — baby Felix, who had taken Karl’s place 
as the youngest in the family, and Vera War- 
wick, a little ten-year-old English girl. Vera 
was the only child of grandma’s youngest 


Vera. 


5 

daughter, aunt Hope, who had married an 
Englishman and gone to live in England some 
years before. Aunt Hope had died when Vera 
was only two years old, and her papa, who was 
a member of Parliament, or, as Vera put it, an 
M. P.,” was kept too busy to be able to spare 
time to bring her to America. But uncle 
Rollie, on his last visit to England, had per- 
suaded Mr. Warwick to let him take the little 
girl back with him to visit her grandparents, 
and that is how she came to be at the man- 
sion ” (as the old house was called among the 
family) this holiday time, as eager to meet her 
little new relatives as they were to make her 
acquaintance. 

In appearance Vera was a typical English 
child — very fair, with wavy, golden hair, a 
pink-and-white complexion, and clear, dark- 
blue eyes that could sparkle and dance with 
fun. Her beauty, her pretty accent, and her 
friendliness won the hearts of Hope and Nannie 
and Helen and Joyce at once, and when the 
boys found that the newcomer had brought with 


6 


Vera. 


her three fine English dogs, which she could 
put through “ no end of tricks,” and that she 
knew some splendid boys’ games which were 
new to them, they, too, thought that she was 
an acquisition to the holiday party. And so 
she was ; her keen appreciation of fun, her high 
spirits and fearlessness making her an accept- 
able comrade in any play. But there were 
times when the little girl allowed these quali- 
ties to carry her too far, and to make her self- 
willed and inconsiderate of other people’s feel- 
ings and rights. 

Mr. Warwick had mentioned this failing of 
his little daughter’s in his letter to grandma, 
attributing it to the fact that Vera’s constant 
playmates for several years had been five Eng- 
lish boy cousins who were, he wrote, '' as head- 
long and thoughtless and inconsiderate as boys 
are generally.” Now grandma’s experience had 
been that associating with boys did not neces- 
sarily make a girl thoughtless and unmindful 
of other people’s feelings, and she fancied the 
matter had never been put before Vera in the 


Vei'a. 


1 


manner that would impress her most. The 
dear old lady felt very tender toward this 
motherless little granddaughter, and watched 
for every opportunity to be helpful to her. 

Christmas Day had come and passed with 
even more than the usual joy and festivity. 
The little English girl declared she had never 
enjoyed anything so much in all her life. The 
excited expectancy of Christmas Eve; the de- 
lightful realization of Christmas mornjng, when 
the stockings were emptied and everybody got 
just what they wanted; the walk to church 
over the crisp white snow, the beautiful service 
and the sweet carols, in which every one joined 
with such fervor; the merry Christmas dinner, 
when there were so many good things to eat that 
one hardly knew which to give one’s best en- 
ergies to; the reception in the afternoon for 
grandma’s little children of the poor,” when 
each guest received a substantial gift to take 
home ; and the tree and dance in the evening ! 
The good times had lasted all through the 
week, and now New- Year Day had come. 


8 


Vera. 


Grandpa and grandma believed in keeping 
the day in the fashion which had prevailed 
when they were young — with open house ” 
and a warm greeting for all that should call 
upon them. So grandma and her daughters 
and daughters-in-law entertained visitors in 
the big parlor, while grandpa sallied forth, in 
his dress-suit and shining silk hat, card-case in 
his pocket and gold-headed cane in hand, to 
call on those of his friends who still kept up 
the old-fashioned New- Year custom. 

Some of the uncles went, too, and Murray, 
who began to consider himself quite grown up. 
Even the boys became infected with the idea. 
After calling several times on grandma, and 
then separately on every one of their female 
relatives, and being treated liberally on each 
occasion to lemonade, chocolate, and all the 
other good things which formed the refresh- 
ments, they made out a list of the little girls 
they knew in the city and went off to call upon 
them. 

After they had gone the five little girls hung 


Vera. 


9 


about the parlor, not knowing quite what to do 
with themselves. Grandma and the mammas 
and aunties were entertaining some visitors in 
whom the children had no interest, and Elsie 
was curled up before the library fire, too deeply 
engrossed in a book to be willing to spare the 
time to suggest a play to them. 

“ I do think it was downright mean of those 
boys to go off and leave us,” protested Joyce, 
crossly, kicking up the edge of the tiger-skin 
rug which lay before the library fire. I don’t 
see why they couldn’t have kept on calling on 
us all the afternoon. Wasn’t it fun having 
them do it ? ” 

‘"Yes,” said Vera, absently; she stood by 
the window, which overlooked the grounds. 
Suddenly she clapped her hands softly. O 
girls!” she cried, eagerly, “I’ve got a splen- 
did idea! Such fun!” Then she added, with 
quick decision: “ Nannie, you’re to come with 
me to help. Hope, you and Joyce and Helen 
stay here until we come back — we won’t be 
very long.” 


10 


Vera. 


Outside the library door Vera whispered her 
plan to Nannie : I thought we’d dress the 
dogs up and take them to call on the girls!” 

“ O Vera, that will be too good for any- 
thing!” exclaimed fun-loving Nannie. ''You 
do think of the splendidest plays. I know the 
girls will just roar with laughter.” 

Running swiftly down the walk to the barn, 
the children let out the three E^nglish dogs. 
They came with a rush, frisking and barking, 
delighted to be free. Sir Reginald was a big, 
long-eared, sad-eyed hound, whose dignified 
appearance was often contradicted by his bois- 
terous behavior. Tony and Squibs were smaller 
animals, slight of build, nervous and active, and 
with such intelligent little faces as to warrant 
Vera’s assertion that they understood every 
word that was said to them. With some difficulty, 
and much suppressed laughter, the dogs were 
smuggled up the back stairs and into the garret. 

" Now you make them stay up here, Nan- 
nie,” said Vera, "and I’ll run downstairs and 
get some clothes to put on them.” 


Outside the library door V'era whispered her plan to Nannie.’ 


(Vera.) 











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Vera. 


1 1 

''Hadn’t I better go?” asked Nannie, hesi- 
tatingly. " I know where to find some old 
things.” 

"No, I’ll find them; I know,” was the de- 
cided reply, and off ran Vera. In a few min- 
utes she returned with several articles of dress 
thrown over her arm. " Here’s a piece of lace 
and a ribbon and a jabot for you,” she said, 
handing them to her cousin. " Now you dress 
Tony and Squibs, and I’ll take Sir Reginald.” 

" But what have you got for Sir Reginald?” 
asked Nannie. " I don’t want to take every- 
thing.” 

"Oh, I’ll have enough,” Vera answered, 
evasively. " I’ll take Sir Reginald, and you 
can put the dogs up on that ledge, Nannie, to 
dress them, and don’t let’s look at each other’s 
work until we are all finished.” 

" All right,” Nannie agreed. They turned 
their backs on each other, and silence reigned 
for a short space of time. As soon as Vera 
saw that her cousin’s .attention was diverted, 
she ran down the garret steps, returning in a 


12 


Vera. 


minute or two with a bundle. Out of this she 
took a short circular cloak made of velvet, 
which she put around the neck of the big 
hound, fastening it at the back. Around his 
neck she tied a soft muslin-and-lace scarf, and 
on his head she set one of her grandmother’s 
morning-caps. Then Vera paused and sur- 
veyed her work with flushed cheeks and danc- 
ing eyes. 

'' That cloak wants something on the bottom 
to finish it off,” she said to herself. Nannie 
was having a difficulty in getting Tony to sub- 
mit to some of his finery. “ Behave yourself 
this minute, Tony!” said Vera, severely, but 
without looking at him ; then, confident that 
Nannie’s attention was engaged, she slipped 
downstairs again, soon returning with a roll 
of lace and a needle which held a very long 
thread; behind her stalked Boojum, grandma’s 
big cat. With a warning shake of her finger, 
which Sir Reginald received in dignified silence, 
Vera proceeded to baste the lace on the edge 
of the velvet cloak. There was more than 


Vera, 


13 


enough to go around, and catching up a pair 
of scissors which lay conveniently near, Vera 
snipped off a piece of the rare old lace ! 

At this instant, having completed Tony’s cos- 
tume and utterly failed in persuading Squibs 
to be adorned, Nannie turned to speak to Vera, 
forgetting her agreement. “ O Vera, he does 
look too funny for anything!” she exclaimed, 
with uplifted hands, as her eyes fell upon Sir 
Reginald’s figure. 

The big dog certainly presented a very com- 
ical appearance. He sat upright, as sober as a 
judge, enveloped in the lace-bedecked velvet 
cloak, his eyes looking more melancholy than 
ever from under the ruffle of grandma’s cap, 
the corners of his heavy mouth hanging dis- 
mally down. 

“ Oh, how the girls will laugh to see such a 
funny-looking caller come walking in 1 Do look 
at Tony, Vera; he doesn’t know what to make 
of Sir Reginald.” 

Tony wore a large lace ruffle around his 
neck, with a jahot, which lay gracefully along 


14 


Vera. 


his back ; his tail was tied with a gay-colored 
ribbon, and Nannie had arranged a handker- 
chief between his ears to look like a dainty 
breakfast- cap. The little dog gazed at Sir 
Reginald with an expression of mild astonish- 
ment that was very amusing. A little distance 
from him sat Squibs, his head on one side, sur- 
veying Tony with a severe disgust that seemed 
to say, “ No such nonsense for me.” In a chair 
on the other side of the big dog sat Boojum, a 
deeply interested spectator. 

The little girls laughed until the tears came 
to their eyes, then Nannie began to examine 
Sir Reginald’s attire. Why, Vera, this is 
grandma’s new velvet cloak!” she exclaimed, 
in a tone of dismay. “ How cotdd you take 
that! I’m sure she won’t like it; suppose Sir 
Reginald should tear it. I dotiH think you 
ought to have taken it; there were plenty of 
other things. And you’ve cut her lace! Oh 
dear, I hope she won’t be angry.” 

What a fusser you are!” cried Vera, impa- 
tiently. “ Nothing’s going to happen to the 


Vera. 


15 


cloak, and Tm sure Reggie looks funnier in 
that than he would in a shawl, and he couldn’t 
wear a jacket with sleeves — don’t you see? I 
had to take the cloak. Besides, I met grandma 
in the hall ” 

“ Did she say you might take it?” broke in 
Nannie, eagerly. 

I suppose you’d feel better if I said she 
did,” Vera answered, evasively ; “ so I say, ' She 
did.’ ” 

Oh, that’s all right then!” Nannie’s honest 
little face brightened up. '' I do think she’s 
the very kindest grandma that ever lived, don’t 
you ? ” 

'' Now let’s finish Squibs,” said Vera, quickly, 
ignoring the question. Then we’ll take them 
downstairs and have some fun. You’ll see if 
grandma doesn’t laugh as much as anybody.” 

Much against his will, a ruffle was tied around 
poor Squibs’s neck, and a broad sash about his 
body, then the procession started for the library. 
Nannie went first with a struggling little dog 
under each arm, and Vera followed with Sir 


16 


Vera. 


Reginald, making him walk down the steps on 
his hind legs. Boojum brought up the rear: 
he was evidently interested in the result of this, 
to him, most extraordinary performance. 

The party reached the first floor in safety, 
and throwing open the library door with a 
flourish, Vera announced, with as close an imi- 
tation of the old butler’s pompous manner as 
she could command : “ Sir Reginald Warwick, 
and the Masters Squibs and Tony Warwick!” 

The boys had returned home, and as all eyes 
turned on the three ridiculous figures inside 
the doorway, a shout of merriment filled the 
room. 

“ Delighted to meet you, gentlemen,” cried 
Russell, springing to his feet and making a low 
bow to Sir Reginald. Taking this as a signal 
for a romp. Sir Reginald made just as low an 
obeisance in return, with a deep “bow-wow!” 
and started off at a headlong pace around 
the room, instantly followed by Squibs and 
Tony. 

Round and round they tore, barking and 


snarling, their bodies at such an angle that at 
times their sides almost touched the floor ; 
efforts to stop them only increased their speed. 
At last Sir Reginald darted through the por- 
tieres which divided the library from the par- 
lors, closely pursued by the smaller dogs. A 
violent crash of china was heard, and some 
shrieks and yelps, then a man’s voice speaking 
very sternly. 

The children stood as if paralyzed, then 
Douglas broke the dreadful silence. “ Phew!” 
he whistled, that’s grandpa’s voice. Don’t I 
feel sorry for the fellow that got up this cir- 
cus!” That broke the spell, and with one ac- 
cord the children rushed into the parlor. Vera 
shivered with dismay when she saw the mischief 
the dogs had wrought, and Nannie began to cry. 
Chairs were overturned, and the large vase 
which stood by the mantelpiece was broken. 
The little table which held grandma’s most 
precious pieces of old china was overturned, 
and the heirlooms lay in fragments on the floor. 
The velvet cloak which Sir Reginald had worn 


8 


Vera. 


was soiled and torn, and the valuable lace that 
Vera had so recklessly cut and basted on it 
was in tatters ! Grandma sat in a chair look- 
ing pale and grieved ; crowded about her were 
the mammas and aunties and some visitors; 
grandpa and John the butler had hold of the 
dogs. 

A few questions from grandpa in a stern 
voice, very unlike his usual mild one, brought 
out the whole story, and both culprits were 
ordered to their rooms. Before she left, Nan- 
nie threw her arms about her grandmother, 
with a tearful entreaty to be forgiven, but Vera 
tossed her head and marched out of the parlor 
without a word or sign of contrition. Up in 
her room, however, the little girl did not feel 
at all comfortable. It was in vain she tried to 
make herself believe that she was being treated 
worse than she deserved. She knew that she 
had planned and carried out the mischief, and 
that poor Nannie had been but a tool in her 
hands. How else was she to be punished? 
Would grandma and grandpa send her back to 


Vera. 


19 


England in disgrace ? How very stern grand- 
pa’s usually kind face had looked ; but grandma 
was sorry — Vera felt sure of that. Just then 
the door opened, and grandma came into the 
room and sat down on the lounge where the 
little girl had thrown herself. She put an arm 
around Vera’s shoulders and drew her to her. 
“Have you nothing to say to me, Vera?’’ she 
asked, in her sweet, kind old voice. 

And then, quite unexpectedly, a big lump came 
into Vera’s throat, and she burst into tears! 

Grandma said nothing, only kept on smooth- 
ing the soft, flowing hair. 

“O grandma,’’ said Vera, presently, “I am 
sorry, indeed I am! I only did it to have 
some fun. I didn’t think Sir Reginald would 
behave so badly.’’ 

“ Has he never acted in this manner before?” 
asked grandma. 

“Well — yes — a few times,” acknowledged 
Vera, reluctantly. 

“ That shows that you did not think about 
that part of the matter at all,” said grandma. 


^0 


Verd,. 

“ You simply wanted to have some fun and did 
not trouble yourself as to who might suffer by 
it. I am afraid that my little granddaughter 
has got into the bad habit of putting her own 
pleasure first, instead of making other people’s 
pleasure her first consideration. My darling, 
your dear mamma was one of the most un- 
selfish natures that God ever made — don’t you 
want to be like her? ” 

“ Of course I do, grandma,” sobbed Vera. 

But it is so hard to remember; and then I 
wouldn’t have a bit of fun.” 

“ Oh, yes, you would,” said grandma, “ and 
a nicer kind, too — a kind that would leave 
pleasant remembrances instead of vain regrets. 
It would be hard only at first until you be- 
came used to thinking more of some one else’s 
pleasure and interest than your own. Will you 
try while you are with me, Vera?” 

Vera hesitated. '‘What’s the use of promis- 
ing?” she said, presently. “I know I’ll for- 
get.” 

“You won’t forget if you ask God to help 


Vera. 


2 1 

you remember.” Grandma stroked the little 
hand that lay on her lap, as she spoke, then she 
added, quietly : '' What is your name, grand- 
child?” 

Vera stared at her. “ Why, grandma, you 
know — Vera Honor Warwick.” 

'' You have a beautiful name,” said grandma, 
slowly. The little girl looked pleased. 

”/ think Vera is a pretty name,” she said. 
” I think Fve heard it is a Russian name; any- 
way, it’s very uncommon.” 

Every name has a meaning, and that of 
Vera is truth,” continued grandma; '"so your 
name means truth and honor. What a beauti- 
ful character you ought to have to match your 
name ! ” 

" Oh,” said Vera, a little uncomfortably. 

The kind old voice went on : " Suppose I 
named a black cat ' Snowball ’ : wouldn't you 
think the name very much misapplied? Or 
suppose your merry little cousin Hope was a 
dismal, unhappy sort of child : wouldn’t you 
say her name was very inappropriate ? ” 


22 


Vera. 


“Yes,” whispered Vera, reluctantly; she be- 
gan to see her grandmother’s meaning. 

“ Your name stands for truth and honor,” 
said grandma, “ and I want my little grand- 
child to be all that her name implies. I am 
sorry to know that you forgot your name to- 
day — first, when you made Nannie think that 
I had given you permission to use my velvet 
cloak, and secondly, when you let her bear an 
equal share of the punishment which really you 
alone deserved. I am sure that God expects 
us to live up to the meaning of our names, for 
you remember He chose that His Son should 
bear on earth the name of Jesus, because it 
meant that He should save His people from 
their sins, and God knew the dear Saviour 
would carry out its meaning in His life.” 

There was a short silence, then Vera said, 
very humbly : “ Grandma, I’m sorrier than I 
was before. I was sorry then because I had 
broken and spoiled your things; but now I’m 
sorry because I told that story and acted so 
mean to Nannie. I never knew about my 


Vera. 


23 


name before ; I’ll try to remember it after this, 
and will you help me?” 

“ Indeed I will, my darling,” said grandma, 
warmly, kissing her forehead. 

And so they made the compact. 



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HONOR BEFORE HONORS/* 


The children were all again at grandma’s 
for the holidays, and with a larger company 
than usual. Vera was not there, having gone 
home to England to spend Christmas with her 
papa, much benefited by her stay with her 
kind, wise grandmother ; but besides the eleven 
other grandchildren you know of, there were * 
five, little newcomers to take her place ; and 
among the five two sets of twins — a fact of 
which everybody in the family seemed very 
proud. 

Bertie and Duncan were Western boys — 
about four years old, and the roundest, stur- 
diest, most mischievous little fellows you ever 
came across. They hadn’t been in the old 
'' mansion ” a day before they had investigated 


3 


4 Honor Before Honors B 

it from the big playroom in the garret to the 
tiny window in the basement laundry, through 
which they peeped, on tip-toes, to see the 
sparrows eat up the crumbs cook had thrown 
out on the snow. The other twins were a boy 
and girl, Siegfried and Marguerite — delicate 
little creatures, born while uncle Max and 
aunt Louise were living in Germany. They 
were pretty children; speaking more German 
than English, and clinging to their nurse 
Gretchen with a shyness that very much 
amused the sturdy little Westerners, to whom 
shyness was an unknown quality. They im- 
mediately proceeded to play tricks of all sorts 
upon these little cousins, jumping out on them 
from unexpected corners; pretending to be 
soldiers who had come to carry them off ; and 
shouting with laughter on Christmas morning 
to see Siegfried and Marguerite shrink startled 
away from the big jack-in-the-box which Dun- 
can threw on their bed. But, unquestionably, 
the hero of this holiday season was the new 
baby — aunt Nora’s rosy, sweet-tempered boy. 


^^Hojior Before Honors B 5 

who laughed and crowed and kicked and 
cooed himself right into everybody’s good 
graces. He was called Paul, but he was not 
yet baptized, and a great excitement ran 
through the house when it was rumored that 
he was to be christened on New- Year Day. 

There had been a happy, jolly Christmas, 
which dear old grandma and grandpa had en- 
joyed quite as much as their sons and daugh- 
ters and grandchildren. There had been all 
sorts of entertainments and fun during the 
holiday week, and it had gone — as Douglas 
said — “ like a flash,” and the children were 
wondering on P'riday morning what new thing 
grandma could possibly think of for their pleas- 
ure on New- Year Day, when Murray came 
bounding up into the big garret where the 
children were playing. 

“ Say, Helen,” he called, as his head ap- 
peared above the level of the garret floor, 
“ you’re wanted down in grandma’s room — in- 
stanter. A great honor awaits you, young 
lady, I can tell you.” Murray was now in 


6 


''Honor Before Honors B 


college, and considered himself rather above 
what he was pleased to call the “ small fry,” so 
his presence in the playroom and his exceed- 
ingly gracious demeanor on this occasion at 
once secured attention. 

Helen sat on the floor by one of the “ port- 
holes,” making a hood for Marguerite’s doll, 
but she rose immediately. " What is it, Mur. ? 
do you know?” she asked, shaking bits of 
thread and clippings from her frock. 

Murray balanced himself on the railing; he 
was evidently only too glad to tell. " The 
kid — Paul — is to be christened on New- Year 
Day,” he said, slowly, enjoying the effect of 
his announcement on his audience, “ and 
grandpa and I are to be the godfathers!” 

Oh 1 ” “ Ah 1 ” Don’t say I ” Is that 

so ? ” In the church ? ” Isn’t that jolly I ” 
I’ve never been to a christening,” came from 
the surprised and interested children as they 
crowded about him. 

“ Don’t get excited, my young friends,” 
continued Murray, waving them -gently back 


Honor Before Honors B 


7 


with both arms ; “ the most astonishing part of 
my information is yet to come. It is but natu- 
ral that two such estimable and worthy people 
as grandpa and I should be called upon to fill 
a responsible position; but when you learn 
that Helen — Helen ! — is to be the sole and only 
godmother of the noble infant, I know your 
feelings will be beyond expression.” 

“ I ? ” cried Helen, breathlessly. 

Helen?” exclaimed Joyce, dropping her 
book in her surprise. “Well, I declare!” 

“ Helen? ” repeated Nannie and the boys, in 
an astonishment only equaled by Helen’s own. 
“ Now if it had been Elsie!” added Nannie. 

“ I’m glad it’s you, Nelly,” said grave-faced 
Elsie, who as usual had been buried in a book. 
“ Aunt Nora and grandma know what they’re 
doing — -you are the best of us all.” 

“O Elsie, don’t say that!” Helen broke in, 
coloring up; “perhaps Murray’s just saying 
this to tease me.” 

“That’s all the thanks one gets for his 
pains!” Murray’s tone was martyr-like; then 


8 ''Honor Before Honors B 

he added, to Helen, “ Did I or did I not tell 
you that your grandmother and aunt required 
your presence in the state chamber?” 

" Oh yes. I’m going,” cried Helen, and in a 
great flutter of excitement she flew down the 
steps to grandma’s room. Here sat the dear 
granny, and aunt Nora and Helen’s mamma. 

Come in, my dear,” called grandma; then, 
drawing the little girl to her side, she told 
Helen that aunt Nora had indeed chosen her 
to be godmother to little Paul, and that the 
service would take place on New- Year Day at 
three o’clock, in the old brown church which 
grandpa and grandma had attended for so 
many years. Aunt Nora had chosen this par- 
ticular opportunity for the christening because 
she wanted the whole family to be present, 
and it seemed not possible to get everybody 
together at any other season of the year. 

“O grandma!” was all Helen could say at 
first, when grandma stopped speaking, though 
her cheeks were flushed a pretty pink and her 
brown eyes were shining. Then, with a shy 


''Honor Before HonorsB 


9 


glance at her mother and aunt, she added, 
earnestly: “O mamma! O aunt Nora! do you 
think I’m good enough to be Paul’s god- 
mother?” 

Mamma smiled at her excited little daughter, 
and aunt Nora took Helen’s face between her 
two hands. “ I have chosen you, Nelly,” she 
said, as I have Murray, not because you are 
so very good, but because I believe you to be 
truthful and honorable, and that you are trying 
to be all that a little Christian should be. As 
you and Murray live near us, your example 
will be constantly before Paul and your influ- 
ence over him, and I am glad to say that I feel 
sure of both being helpful to him. I know 
more of your every-day life than you think, 
Helen, and taking the ups and the downs to- 
gether, my dear, I have such a confidence in 
you and respect for you that I want you to be 
my boy’s sponsor and help me to train him.” 

This was quite a wonderful speech for quiet 
aunt Nora to make, and Helen was so over- 
come by the unexpected compliments she had 


lo ''Honor Before Honors.” 

received that she became dreadfully embar- 
rassed; but she was saved further remark, for 
just at this moment the sitting-room door flew 
open, and in poured the children in a body, all 
talking at once — eager to know if what Murray 
had said were indeed true. And when reas- 
sured on that point their wonder and interest 
knew no bounds. 

Though secretly pleased, and realizing the 
responsibility which he was to assume, Murray 
refused to talk the matter over with any of the 
small fry,” and carried himself straighter than 
ever. But Helen belonged to them, and many 
and constant were the remarks addressed to her 
on the subject. Nannie and Joyce gave her a 
great deal of friendly counsel as to how they 
should behave had either of them been chosen 
in her stead, but with their advice was also an 
unconscious deference that was very flattering to 
Helen. Grandpa kissed her very tenderly with 
a whispered " Little godmother! ” and even the 
boys treated her with unusual politeness. 

The solemn feeling with which Helen had 


''Honor Before Honors B ii 

heard of her new responsibility began to fade 
during the day, and she wondered, as she 
walked with her mamma to Tiffany’s to choose 
a spoon for Paul, if any of the girls of her own 
age that she met had ever had such a compli- 
ment paid them, and if the salesman in the big 
store wouldn’t have been a little deferential to 
her, as well as to mamma, if he had known. 
This feeling seemed to grow instead of lessen 
during the evening and the next day ; it was 
an odd little feeling of self-importance, that 
Helen was not used to, and which she did not 
recognize at first. She found herself settling 
little discussions and disputed questions among 
her playmates with a decided manner that was 
new to her, and which, rather to her surprise, 
the other children resented — Helen’s influence 
over them had hitherto been a very gentle one. 

She was sitting in the library that afternoon 
when grandpa and uncle Rollie came in. Uncle 
Rollie carried a large flat parcel done updn light 
brown paper. “What you dot, unkie Rollie?” 
asked Duncan, putting a little hand on the par- 


12 ■ ‘'Honor Before Honors B 

cel; but uncle Rollie lifted it high above the 
little boy’s head, then laid it in the middle of 
the big library table. “ It’s nothing for you, 
little man,” he said, swinging Duncan to his 
shoulder, and nothing you’d like half so well 
as a pick-a-back ride. Come on, for a gallop 
up to mamma.” Then as he passed Helen, 
uncle Rollie said rapidly : Don’t let anybody 
touch that parcel, Nelly. I don’t want the 
contents seen till later.” 

“ I’ll take care of it,” Helen said, with a 
quick smile of comprehension ; but soon after 
she became so interested in her book that she 
forgot all about the parcel until she heard Ber- 
tie’s voice say : Oh ee! Duncan ! Siegfried ! I 
say, tome see these pitty pitchers ! ” and there, 
to her surprise and dismay, was the small boy 
lying flat on the library table, his heels in the air, 
deliberately turning over the leaves of the large 
book which had been in the brown paper parcel ! 

“ No, no, Bertie,” she cried, flying to his s\de 
and lifting him bodily off the table. “You 
must not touch that book — you know you are a 


”Ho7ior Before Honors B 13 

naughty little boy to get on grandma’s library 
table. Come, stop crying like a good child, and 
play games with Siegfried and Marguerite in 
the hall.” 

But Bertie’s feelings were hurt at his sudden 
and unexpected descent from the table, and it 
was some time before Helen could quiet him 
and return to see if any mischief had been 
done. She intended to just glance over the 
leaves Bertie had turned to see if his careless 
little fingers had soiled them ; but the name of 
the book caught her eye and her fancy at once 
— “ Historic Highways and Byways of Old 
England.” Helen loved history — particularly 
English history — and these illustrations were 
most beautiful. How she did want to look 
through the handsome volume — perhaps she 
really ought to do so, she told herself, to see 
whether Bertie had done damage to any part 
of it ; one never could be sure of such a little 
fidget. Though Helen distinctly remembered 
uncle Rollie’s words, “ Don’t let a7iyhody touch 
that parcel,” she gradually managed to convince 


14 ''Honor Before Honors B 

herself that what he said was meant only for 
the little ones ; and drawing the book of Eng- 
lish views under the library lamp, she began 
turning the leaves over slowly, and reading a 
little bit here and there. 

It was so delightfully 'interesting that she 
forgot all about the way the time was flying, 
until the sound of her young uncle’s voice in 
the hall roused her from her enjoyment with a 
guilty start. “I’m just going to the corner,” 
uncle Rollie said to somebody who was with 
him, “ and when I come back I’ve something 
pretty to show you.” 

“ He means the book,” thought Helen, un- 
easily ; and then her eyes fell on the page she 
was holding between her finger and thumb, 
and, to her great consternation, there on the 
beautiful broad margin was a soiled, damp spot ! 
That she must have done it, Helen knew at 
once, for Bertie had not reached that part of 
the book, and it had not been there a minute 
before when she turned the page. In vain she 
rubbed the spot with her handkerchief ; it re- 



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(Honor before Honors ) 






''Honor Before Honors." 15 

fused to stir. A noise in the hall startled her, and 
hastily slipping the book back into its wrapper, 
she laid the parcel in the middle of the library 
table just whe^;-e uncle. Rollie had placed it, and 
seating herself inlhe deep window-seat, waited 
for her uncle’s return. I’ll tell him when he 
comes in,” she thought. 

But when he did come, a few minutes after, 
and took up his parcel with a bright question- 
ing All right?” Helen nodded, and answered 
All right,” without another word. 

“Thanks, faithful little sentinel,” said uncle 
Rollie, dropping a lovely fragrant rose into her 
lap as he passed out. “ You shall be the first, 
after mother, to see what I have here.” 

As the portieres fell into place behind him 
the little girl leaned her head against the win- 
dow-sill with a very unhappy feeling. “ I do 
wish I hadn’t looked through his book, or that 
I had told him about it,J’ she thought; “I feel 
so mean.” And Just at this particular moment 
what should come distinctly to Helen’s memory 
but aunt Nora’s words — the words which had 


1 6 ''Honor Before Honors B 

given the little girl such pleasure — “ I believe 
you to be truthful and honorable ” — on that 
account she had chosen Helen to be little Paul’s 
sponsor ! 

Ah ! Helen caught her breath quickly, and 
unconsciously hugged closer to her Marguerite’s 
doll, which she had picked up from the library 
floor. Suddenly conscience-stricken, she real- 
ized that the manner in which she had fulfilled 
uncle Rollie’s trust was neither truthful nor 
honorable. She knew very well that the right 
thing to do now was to go straight to him and 
confess how matters really stood. She had not 
the least doubt of his forgiveness — uncle Rollie 
was too like grandma to be anything but gen- 
erous; but if she did that, then she must also 
tell aunt Nora, and she would never let such 
a mean, dishonorable girl be godmother to her 
dear, beautiful baby. Perhaps she would choose 
Elsie instead, or Joyce, and then everybody 
would have to know why it was the change 
was made. How ashamed mamma and papa 
would be of her; and Helen could see the look 


''Honor Before Honors B 17 

of surprise and disappointment in grandpa’s and 
grandma’s face. “ I ought to do it, I know I 
ought,” she thought, miserably, “ but oh, how 
can I ever? ” 

Time to dress for dinner, Helen,” cried 
Nannie, putting her curly head between the 
portieres. “ Come on, we’ll go upstairs to- 
gether.” 

That evening was one of the most unhappy 
Helen ever spent — everybody was so kind and 
complimentary, and she felt keenly how little 
she deserved it. When uncle Rollie brought 
the brown paper parcel and laid it on his 
mother’s lap with, “ Here’s a secret that Helen 
and I’ve been keeping this afternoon,” Helen 
slipped out of the room and sat on the stairs 
in the hall — she couldn’t endure it another 
moment. 

How happy everybody seemed to be, and 
how very unhappy she was! And it was all 
her own fault — she felt that. Oh, if she only 
could get up courage enough to tell the truth! 
She half rose, then sank back. ‘‘ They’d all 


1 8 Honor Before Honors B 

have to know, and Murray and all the boys would 
despise me,” she thought. “And yet I ought 
to.” In a few minutes she rose again, this time 
to her feet. “ I’m just going to do it,” she said 
aloud, a look of determination replacing the in- 
decision in her face, “ though I know she won’t 
let me be godmother.” She ran quickly up 
the stairs and along the hall, and as she ran she 
kept saying very earnestly to herself : 'Hlease, 
God, help me to do it ; please, God, help me to 
do it” 

And He certainly did, for when Helen en- 
tered aunt Nora’s room in answer to her pleas- 
ant “ Come in,” the little girl felt so much 
quieter and braver that, had she had time to 
think of it, she would have been very much 
surprised. Aunt Nora was rocking Paul and 
singing to him, in the hope of getting him to 
sleep, but the crow with which the little fellow 
greeted Helen, and his bright eyes, showed 
that the “ Sand-man ” was still far away. One 
glance at Helen’s face told aunt Nora that 
something was wrong; with quick sympathy 


“Honor Before Honors. 


19 


she drew the little girl to her side, and it was 
leaning on her shoulder that Helen told her 
story — very humbly, not excusing or passing 
over a single item, and with hot blushes of 
shame and tears of contrition. 

I am grieved that my little girl should have 
fallen into temptation,” aunt Nora said, gently, 
when the story was finished ; “ but more thank- 
ful than I can tell you, dear Helen, that you 
were honest and brave enough to tell the truth, 
though you knew how hard the punishment 
might be. ' Honor before honors ’ — God’s ap- 
proval before man’s approbation — is the best 
motto in the world to live up to, and one that 
I hope will always be yours. Now, you must 
go tell uncle Rollie what you have told me, 
and after you have won his forgiveness I know 
you will feel happier.” Then, in answer to the 
shy questioning expression in Helen’s dark eyes, 
she added : “ We won’t speak of the sponsorship 
to-night, Helen; to-morrow morning I will let 
you know what is to be done about it. Good- 
night, my dear.” She kissed Helen affection- 


20 ''Honor Before Honors B 

ately, and then the little girl went away to look 
for her uncle. 

Uncle Rollie’s expression of surprise cut 
Helen to the quick, but his forgiveness was 
fully and instantly granted. I’m glad you’ve 
told me,” he said, ” as we had come across the 
disfigured page, and feeling sure it had not 
been done here, I intended taking it back to 
the publishers and asking for a perfect copy. 
Now, of course, we’ll keep it.” 

And it was the kind young uncle who de- 
clared that no one should know of Helen’s fault 
besides himself but those immediately inter- 
ested — Helen’s parents and grandma. 

But Helen told Murray herself before break- 
fast the next morning — which was Sunday — 
New- Year Day fell on Sunday that year — 
while they were in the library alone together. 
Murray had called her in ; he had his Prayer 
Book open at the Public Baptism of Infants,” 
and he made room for Helen to sit beside him 
on the small tete-a-tete seat, even throwing an 
arm across her shoulder to keep her steady. 


Honor Before HoiiorsB 21 

“ Let’s read the service over together,” he said, 
“ so we’ll understand clearly all about it, and 
know what to say this afternoon.” 

Then Helen told him all about the trouble, 
and that she did not now expect to be Paul’s 
godmother. Oh, how ashamed she felt ! 

Murray gave a long, low whistle of surprise, 
but it was a great comfort to Helen that he did 
not take his arm away. '' What’ll we do if you 
come to grief this way?” he said, thoughtfully. 
“ Why, I quite depended on you to help me 
do my duty by the little chap. Yes, I know 
it’s hard to be good ” — with an emphatic nod 
of his head. “ Talk about temptations- — you 
don’t know anything about what they are till 
you come to a boys’ college ; some of those 
fellows don’t seem to know the first thing 
about honor, and they make fun of the ones 
that do. That’s a good motto aunt Nora told 
you about — ‘ Honor before honors.’ I guess 
we’d better both try to live up to it, if we’re 
to be of any use to Paul, for you know we’ll 
have to set him a good example.” 


22 Honor Before Honors B 

“ I am going to try,” Helen said, with a 
quiver in her voice; “but, Murray, you forget 
— I’m not to be Paul’s godmother.” 

“Yes, you are, dear Helen” — there was 
aunt Nora right beside them, a bright smile 
on her sweet face ; “ your uncle George and 
I have talked the matter over, and we still 
wish that you should be Paul’s sponsor. Will 
you ? ” 

“Oh, aunt Nora!” gasped Helen, almost 
speechless with surprise and happiness, “ how 
kind you are!” 

“Hurrah!” shouted Murray, and forgetting 
his dignity in his delight, he threw his arms 
around aunt Nora and Helen and gave them 
a desperate bear’s-hug, then dashed out of the 
room with a very red face. 

About three o’clock that afternoon a large 
party were in the old brown church on Stuy- 
vesant Square. Grandma was there, and all 
the aunts and uncles and grandchildren, and in 
the half-circle that stood before the font were 
uncle George, and aunt Nora, with Paul in 


^ Honor Before Honors. 


n 


her arms, and dear old grandpa, and Helen and 
Murray. Very clearly came the sponsors’ re- 
sponses, and very solemn and earnest were the 
faces of the young godfather and godmother as 
they went sureties for little Paul. 






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